Just A Simple Fix
by DreamsInBlackAndWhite
Summary: A boy who doesn't trust anyone. A girl who's been used a thousand times. He hates everyone, most of all himself. She's not sure it's worth the fight anymore. There are no simple fixes for the troubled. No romance whatsoever.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Alex Rider series. I own Grace and Emily.**

**Author's Note: _Okay, I know I shouldn't but I'm a sucker for a new story. This is, I think, the most personal thing I've ever written. A lot of this is painful for me to put down but I'm going to because I think it'll help me in one way or another, even if I really don't want to do this. But it wouldn't leave me alone, this story. I really hope you enjoy._**

**!IMPORTANT!: This is NOT a romance fanfic. I swear, it's not.**

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**Just A Simple Fix**

_"__Like the body that is made up of different limbs and organs, all moral creatures must depend on each other to exist.__" - Arabian Proverb_

_"Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleave of care  
__The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath  
Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course,  
Chief nourisher in life's feast".  
-William Shakespeare, Macbeth_

**Prologue.**

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Doctor Grace Ryan despised her night shifts. She reflected briefly on this irrational hate as she walked down one on the seemingly endless corridors of St. Sebastian's Psychiatric Hospital. As a psychiatrist, she could recognize it as irrational but she didn't want to even consider self diagnosis.

She'd become a doctor because her parents wanted her to and nearly burned out in her first year when she realized that it wasn't enough to just go to work and go home and live those two seperate lives. In a way, her work saved her. Dragged her through the long, lonely hours. Stopped her from thinking how easily she could have been one of the youths she treated. She should have been. But no one watched out for her the way people did nowadays.

She immersed herself in other people's lives because her own felt too empty and stingingly painful to inhabit. But night shifts were different. There was nothing to stop her mind from wandering over what would or could be. Night shifts were lonely, morose, pensive times for Doctor Ryan.

The light of the moon strolled through the windows as she explored the empty, lingering corridors purposelessly, glancing through windows occasionally. She could make out very little of the empty bedrooms in the half light but as she ascended a flight of stairs her ears perked up. The mess hall was occupied by teenagers of all ages, laughing. Talent shows were good to have in the hospital.

It made Doctor Ryan smile. She might have stayed to watch the carefully supervised scene but she noticed that two of her favourite patients were missing. Slowly, she pulled herself away from the glass window, waving cheerily at the teenagers inside. She rounded the final corner carefully and glanced down the ward, cautious not to cause a disturbance.

The bedside lamp was still on. The only two occupied beds separated by a thin curtain of light material. Doctor Ryan smiled and shook her head silently. They were disregarding the rules but she would definitely allow it. They were her favourites and she wasn't ashamed to admit it. They somehow supported each other the entire six months they'd been in the hospital. Thrown together under strange circumstances. They'd been beaten and battered by life and they leaned against each other with an almost alarming dependence.

They were complete opposites but they'd clung together for six months, quaking as two halves of what seemed to be a fighting unit.

Doctor Ryan shook her head again, allowing herself for the first time all night to come to a stop and just watch. The girl lay on her right shoulder, cradling herself even in her sleep. She looked even more breakable when she slept. Her body was twisted to face him, even though the curtain blocked him from sight, black hair tumbling and fanning across her pillow. The angry red scars on her arms were hidden by a long sleeved pyjama top, hiding her secret. Her breathing was easy though, her skeletal face almost tranquil in the still light of the moon.

The sleeping boy was lying on his left shoulder, facing her. It was as if they'd fallen asleep trying to find each other behind the curtain. His hands were spread out, reaching toward the dividing line. He slept spread eagled while she hunched and cradled in on herself, trying to stop herself from collapsing. His face looked younger without his chilling eyes open, the relentless light of the lamp distorting his features slightly. Even in sleep they seemed to be dependant on each other. To tell their own stories. She was trying to hold herself together. He was reaching for something to cling to. Some form of help.

Doctor Ryan sighed at the sight and folded her arms across her chest, observing for another minute before darting away, smiling to herself. She'd go and talk with the others at the party. But she'd leave her thoughts in the room where they slept. Yes. Alex Rider and Emily Rose were definitely her favourite patients.

What she didn't know was that she couldn't help them in their sleep. The nightmares, they slunk in every single night.

She was powerless to help them in her own hospital, where she held the power.

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**Fin.**


	2. Chapter One

**Author's Note: **_Thanks to all who reviewed the prologue! I really do enjoy hearing what you guys think of each chapter I put out, whether it's good or bad, so please send me some feedback. I've decided that there will most likely be two updates a week for this story, when possible. There will always be at least one update which will definitely be on Monday. Always. And, if possible, I'll be updating every Thursday as well._

**Thanks again for reading and (possibly) reviewing!**

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**Just A Simple Fix**

_Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body - Elizabeth Stone_

_If you have never been hated by your child, you have never been a parent. - Bette Davis_

**Chapter One**

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_Six Months Before_

Jack Starbright fidgeted nervously on the stiff chair in the lobby of the London Borough Municipal Couthouse. She didn't like waiting in the lobby while her fiance, Paul, deliberated on the third floor with his lawyer and the prosecuting lawyer and the judge who had been appointed to the case. She noticed that the courthouse was a lot busier than it had been the many other times she and her tiny family had had the unfortunate pleasure of being there.

She averted her gaze back to Alex, rubbing at her enlarged stomach tenderly, almost unconsciously. She bit back a sigh. All she had was disappointment and frustration and so many questions. How had it come to this? Why was this happening? Three years ago, when Alex was fourteen, he'd been happy, healthy and well-rounded. Gifted in academia and sports. She flinched slightly looking at him. He's become so twisted up inside. So unhappy.

In fact, she barely recognized the furious, depressed, suicidal seventeen year old that sat across from her on the other side of the coffee table. Nothing beyond his phsyical features was familiar. His blond, tousled hair that he'd had his entire life. But the brown eyes she used to find so much comfort in, that used to shine with life, had now hardened with pain and burned with anger. They were cold and dead. Somebody else's eyes.

Alexander Johnathan Rider. A name that used to make her smile and chuckle. Now all she felt was fear and worry. Pain. He sat across from her, so cold and distant. Swathed in baggy dark wash jeans, a black t-shirt and a black sweatshirt with the hood pulled up over his hair and a pair of trainers covered in scrawling tattoo prints with clashing colours. His long legs were stretched out on top of the coffee table, arms folded behind his neck, head tilted back. His earphones were in and people across at the reception were glancing over to see where the loud blasting of rock music was coming from. Jack blushed crimson and reached over, gently tapping Alex's left foot.

He cracked open one brown eye lazily to look across at her then shut it again, turning up the music. Jack blinked back tears. It was always the same story with Alex. She probably would have been better off before letting Alex know that the music level was irritating her.

If she was being entirely honest, she felt guilty for Alex's current state. Guilty enough to be charged with whatever it was she'd done. The events of the past two and half years had left the previously fragile Alex broken. He was so cold. He'd just shattered to pieces, hardening himself to the brink that he couldn't feel anything anymore. Except rage. And pain. Anger had consumed him.

And rightly so. He'd been through so much in the past three years. He'd been used and betrayed and double crossed at every step. There was a battle going on inside of Alex and all she could do was sit on the sidelines and watch as the mistakes of someone else tore him apart at the seams; and she felt the guilt for not being able to stop it.

It had started off just after his fifteenth birthday. Relatively serious things but small in the grand scheme of things. Skipping school, cheating on tests and fighting with other students who used to be friends. Then when she met Paul, things had gotten worse. That was just after his sixteenth birthday. When he attacked Tom Harris in school. The trespassing. The outbursts. The raging temper tantrums where he disappeared for days into his room. At least, she'd thought he was in his room. She wasn't really so sure.

She'd convinced herself he just needed some time to re adjust to certain things. Of course he did. Any fourteen year old who'd been subjected to the same things as Alex would need time and space to find himself again. Then she'd found the drugs.

It had been the summer after his sixteenth birthday. Things had settled down slightly. Brookland had taken him back on probation and she'd learned not to call him on certain things. His clothes, his friends, his curfew, his room. She'd felt like she could breathe again in those weeks. Paul had stayed, despite Alex's efforts to divide and conquer them. He'd proposed, even. She'd been doing a bit of laundry when a small bag of marijuana had fallen out of Alex's pocket, along with some skins and a lighter. She'd confronted him that night, with Paul holding her hand. He'd replied with yells and curses and told her never to go through his things again.

Of course, she'd put her foot down and Paul had backed her up. Cutting the time he spent away from the house without one of them. No mobile, no television and no computer. It only made him more angry and more determined to push them away. Paul, a doctor at the Clare Clinic had enrolled him in drug treatment. He insisted on weekly urine samples. It did nothing but fuel Alex's hatred and resent.

She'd tried everything to help him. Anger management, family therapy, individual therapy for each of the three of them, teenage group therapy. He'd been to more physicians than she'd spoken with in her entire life who'd prescribed him plenty of different anti-depressants. Nothing seemed to reach him. She'd been told that his unwillingness to heal was a key factor in his case. He was callous. She knew from Paul's tests that the drug use had just increased despite their efforts to help him.

And Paul did try. He was so loving and compassionate. Jack didn't really know how she'd managed to land a man so sweet and caring who also happened to look like a male model. He had such a big heart. Not like the assholes she usually fell for. Paul was just amazing.

Jack sighed and turned her attention back to the elevator doors, rubbing her stomach tenderly, anxious to hear the verdict for Alex's latest fit of rage. It had been the night of the engagement party when she'd announced her pregnancy. It had taken a while to organize the party, waiting for her family to fly in from America and Paul's parents coming all the way from Australia.

Paul had smiled and clapped and hugged her, quizzing her instantly about how far gone she was. He'd been incredible as usual. Telling her exactly what was happening inside of her, using his doctor voice. Everyone had been so thrilled.

Alex had flown into a rage, yelling loudly, swearing. Punching Paul and verbally abusing him. He made sure he'd ruined the dinner before he stormed out of the hotel. He stole a car from outside. And not just any car. A Porsche. And quite a nice, expensive one at that. That just happened to belong to Paul's brother. When the police found him several hours later they'd found Alex as well. He had been in an almost catatonic state; drunk, high with cocaine smeared on his nose. He'd resisted arrest, crashed the Porsche within two minutes of starting the engine again, miraculously unharmed. She and Paul had gone to pick him up from the police station he'd started swearing loudly at them at the top of his lungs before passing out cold.

He'd outdone himself for sure.

The elevator doors slid open and Jack turned to smile weakly at Paul who shook hands with their lawyer. She shook Alex's shoulder but he just snarled out a swear and ignored her. Sighing, she held out her arms to hug Paul anxiously. She prayed silently that an agreement had been reached. This was Alex's seventh, no eighth, offense for drugs but only his second for theft.

Paul rubbed her back gently before stepping out of her hug and yanking the earphones out of Alex's iPod, finally muting the loud, angry music. Alex yawned slightly, grinning maniacally up at them. He stretched and then stood up, stepping over the coffee table and rubbing a hand down his face, his eyes dark and dull with a subdued fury.

"So _Dad_", he said mockingly, twisting the affectionate term into something nasty, "what kind of community service time did you wrangle? I'm going to have _so _much fun serving my area". Sarcasm oozed from his mouth. Paul ignored it, his muscles tensing. Jack reached for his hand and placed it on her stomach gently, the tension immediately sliding away. It was so easy to love Paul.

"No community service this time" he told Alex in a quiet tone, still facing Jack. His green eyes were mournful and pensive. Jack felt a weight settle in at the bottom of her stomach. Paul never looked sad unless there really was something to be sad about. Alex laughed quietly, shaking his head and Paul turned to stare at him levelly, one hand still on Jack's stomach.

"Nice work, _Dad_. Got to give you some credit for that, I suppose. Jack must have better taste than I thought" Alex said, grinning crookedly, winding Paul up. He knew just the right topics to push to make Paul angry, something that wasn't easy. Paul just nodded glumly, almost emptily.

"Yes", he spoke to Alex, "You'll only have to be there for six to nine months. Maximum".

"Be _where _for six to nine months?" Alex asked nastily, his grin disappearing. His eyes narrowed, his face contracted with hostility.

Jack wanted to ask if it was jail. She clutched at Paul's shoulder desperately, her eyes asking the question she didn't dare frame. "No", he said, squeezing her hand slowly to reassure her, "He's still a minor. Dave dropped the charges too, so he won't do any jail time. But when reviewing Alex's records the judge decided that since community service seemed to actually be detrimental that he needed something bigger. He's ordered for Alex to be sent to a treatment centre".

"I won't go" Alex said petulantly, crossing his arms in a defensive manner.

"Yes. You will" Paul said, dropping his voice before turning back to Jack. "Honey, could you please sign these and drop them over to reception?" he asked, handing Jack a wedge of official looking papers. He waited until she'd crossed the lobby hesitantly and was out of listening range before he faced Alex again, reminding himself silently where he was and what it would look like if Alex decided to make a scene.

"If I have to sedate you and drag you there myself, so help me God, I will. You are going" he said, stepping closer to the teenager. Alex frowned stubbornly and made no reply. Jack glanced over worriedly, anxious to get back to the escalating scene if only to defuse Paul.

"This is going to end." Paul warned in a low, almost dangerous voice far from his normal demeanour. Alex blinked twice. He'd never heard Paul so frustrated or angry. Hmm. "The antics, the drugs, the fighting, the stealing; it is all going to stop, Alex. Jack is in bits from trying to keep up with you and what's bad for her is bad for the baby. My baby. It's about time you grew up and stopped this angsty teenage rebellion bullshit. Stop acting like the world is out to get you and just let us help".

Paul sounded so tired, Jack thought as she hurried back. She tucked the wedge of papers under her arm; she'd sign them later. She returned to Paul's side and decided to appease the situation since neither of them seemed to be willing to back down. "Where is this treatment centre? What's it called?" she asked, squeezing Paul's forearm gently.

"St. Sebastian's Psychiatric Hospital. It's just outside of Hereford. It comes highly recommend for cases like Alex's" Paul told her, his eyes never leaving Alex's face, daring him to speak against him again. Jack frowned. Paul was going to feel as if he'd been too harsh later on.

She turned to Alex and hesitantly reached out to touch his cheek. "You've left us no choice, Al. We've tried every single thing" she said tenderly.

He flinched away from the contact, sneering at her. _It's not my Alex _she repeated over and over in her head, like a mantra. "You know what you haven't tried? Leaving me the fuck alone" he swore angrily, scowling.

"That's enough", Paul said, stepping forward. "You are going. And that is it".

Alex's eyes suddenly gleamed with malicious recognition and he smiled nastily at Paul. "I turn eighteen in January. That's seven months from now. You can't make me stay there after that, can you?" he was defiant and challenging and angry all wrapped up in one.

Sighing and closing his eyes tiredly, Paul just nodded his head. Alex stalked off towards the glass doors of the courthouse and Jack knew they'd find him at the car, leaning against the door, smoking. She pinched the bridge of her nose and then reached out, taking Paul's hand and smiling at him weakly.

They left the courthouse through the glass doors together, both praying that it would be for the last time.

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**Fin.**


	3. Chapter Two

**Author's Note: **_Thanks to everybody who reviewed Chapter One! I'm sorry I couldn't reply to you all personally but I've just been very busy with school stuff. You're feedback is very important to me and I love to read about what you think of what I've written. So, as promised, here is your Monday update. _

**Thanks again for reading and (possibly) reviewing!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Alex Rider series. Emily is mine.**

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**Just A Simple Fix**

_Love, joy and peace cannot flourish until you have freed yourself from mind dominance - Eckhart Tolle_

_There is a great deal of pain in life and perhaps the only pain that can be avoided is the pain that comes from trying to avoid pain - R.D. Laing_

**Chapter Two**

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Charlie Rose sighed loudly and folded over his newspaper, leaning back into his comfortable chair to massage his temples and sigh again. He couldn't stand the silence that seemed to smother the house. Idly he reached for the remote and turned on the television, just for the familiar white noise of the six o'clock news. Barely ten seconds had passed before he sighed again and peeled himself out of his seat reluctantly, wandering out of the living room. He paused at the foot of the stairs and walked past, shaking his head. He couldn't help but pause in the hall, though. He liked photographs.

His hand reached straight for his favourite one subconsciously, as if his brain knew that he needed cheering up. It made him smile to look at his Emily, captured flawlessly at a moment in time he enjoyed revisiting frequently. His Emily. She was so beautiful. How old had she been when they'd snapped that picture? Nine? No, ten. It was the summer before Lilia left. She looked so pretty, frozen forever for him to smile at. The whole family at the beach. He had an arm around each of his girls and they all smiled for the camera. He set it down again quickly, not wanting to dwell too long on the memory. It would only serve to make him sheepish.

He sighed again and chuckled. He seemed to do nothing but sigh. He'd spent four years sighing over his daughter. Ever since she hit the teenage years. He rummaged through the freezer and produced two microwavable portions of lasagna, piercing the foil and throwing them into the microwave. That was as far as his non-existent cooking skills really went.

He climbed the stairs slowly, cringing at the deadly quiet that enveloped the top floor of the house. He nudged open Emily's door perilously, poking his head through and flinching. He bit back a sigh. All he had was worry and frustration and so many questions. How had it come to this? Why was this happening? Three years ago, when Emily was fourteen, he'd first realized that something was wrong. She was so quiet and lonely. She didn't speak unless spoken to directly. She spent hours in her room, in total silence. She was so... unhappy.

He could barely connect his sunny, warm, loving daughter with the person he'd been living with. He barely recognized the teenage girl who sat with her legs folded on her bed, head down, unmoving. Her black hair hung over her face, long and wild, hiding her features. She was so pale and stick thin. He coughed and she looked up, eyes flashing with pain and anguish and depression jumbled in together.

Her beautiful green eyes that had become so alien. So morose and full of anguish. Dark bruises coloured just below them, making her face look even more thin and waif like. As if her eyes were too big for her. She didn't smile at him like she used to when she was small. She just sat there. She'd changed out of her uniform, at least. She was wearing a sweatshirt two sizes too big, loose and baggy. Trying to hide how thin she really was. Her tracksuit bottoms were over sized and tattered, spattered with paint. Ancient. She wore plain black socks.

For Christ's sake. How could socks manage to look depressed?

"Hey kiddo. Good day at school?" he asked, averting his gaze suddenly. He felt such guilt for his daughter's state. It was his fault Lilia had left and he was sure that that was the catalyst that had sparked the entire chain of events that had torn her apart. She seemed to just drift through life like a... like a zombie, he thought, cringing. She was trapped in her own little bubble of pain and hate and anguish.

She'd been through so much in her short life. Losing Sam when she was just four. Seeing him killed in front of her. Seeing her mother's depression and mental struggles. He'd turned his back on them both, he realized. Shut out them because of what he'd lost. But they'd lost Sam too. Lilia had burnt all the pictures one morning and since then only his spirit seemed to linger with them, an unspoken fact of life. Lilia just leaving them like that. Him trying to cope. Christ, it had been hard for Emily. So hard.

He wasn't sure exactly when it had started. He felt guiltiest for that. She'd been fourteen when he'd first realized what was in front of him but he wasn't sure how long it had been going on. It seemed to gradually creep up on him with small things. She stopped listening to music. She stopped talking to him about her day. Stopped pretending things were alright. She didn't ask about his day. She did her homework upstairs and stopped asking him about books he'd read. She spent hours on end in the bathroom and his razors disappeared often.

She made good grades in school but she lost all of her friends. She started to blank him at meals and pick at her food. Eventually, she stopped eating. She didn't draw or write or read. She didn't go out walking anymore. She stopped seeing things.

"Emily, I think you need help. And I'm not sure I'm doing what's best for you by letting you live here when you're like... this" he told her. She looked up at him for the first time, into his eye, her eyes blank and dead, pain swirling around them. She saw it as a rejection, he knew that.

"You're saying..." she said, her voice flat and empty. He flinched at that tone. It was so hollow. Emily used to sing beautifully. He used to stand outside her bedroom when she sat in bed and listen to her chirping out songs while she coloured in. No. He shook his head slowly, ridding himself of the past. He needed to stay focused for his daughter.

"That you need-"

"Help, I got that. So it's get help or get out, dad?" she said with that dead voice. He pulled the colourful brochure from his pocket, the one he'd gone to the trouble of getting. He'd read it carefully and he knew the implications of giving it to her. He knew what it could do to her to hospitalize her. But with her walking coma on the other hand, he wondered if the risk might be worth it to help her.

"Here. It's a place called-"

"You're the only family I've got dad. I'm getting better" she said those words, knowing they might break him. He thought of the good days to block out the manipulation, desperate. He needed to stick to his guns. He couldn't second guess himself. He couldn't. He had to save her. He had to help her get better. He knew she wasn't, in his heart. He wanted to believe but he couldn't. If anything, she was getting worse and worse.

He handed her the brochure and turned, leaving the room. Emily held it in her hand for a minute before uncrossing her legs and walking purposefully into the tiny en suite she'd begged him to build for her when she was eight. She listened to his footsteps downstairs in the kitchen and she opened her small vanity cabinet. Her fingers fell to the familiar groove that was slightly raised and she lifted it up to get to her stash.

Grabbing the band aids as an after thought, she sat back against the wall, knees to her chest and studied the shiny, sharp razor blade. She rolled back the thick white cotton sleeve that had hidden what she wanted to hide. She didn't cry. They thought she was troubled; maybe she was. They thought she wanted to die; it was a possibility. They'd begged her to stop but her father never understood. He couldn't understand. He hadn't seen what had happened. He didn't know why she had to do it.

This was the only connection she had left. In these moments when she took the blade and pressed it to her skin, she felt the presence she craved for the most; she felt the approval she craved for the most. In these moments it was like Sam and her mother had never left her. It was like she was her again. As if the touch of the metal erased what Jason had done.

She'd made mistakes Charlie didn't know about after her mother had left. Jason had been a mistake. He'd been sixteen when she was fourteen. Handsome, strong, funny, intelligent. Someone who could protect her and made her feel better. But he'd used her. When he'd started to hit her, that had been it. She'd run from him and what he'd done. It had taken her two years to see that he was poison. Him and his drugs.

It was strange really, how one little tiny piece of metal could cause so much wonder to her. Shiny meant metal. Metal meant a kitchen knife. A kitchen knife meant death. It had taken her a few days to work up the courage to actually do it but she had carried a blade ever since that day to make herself feel alright.

They didn't understand, she mused. She took a deep breath then and chased those thoughts from her head, closing her eyes. She pressed the blade to her skin and pressed down. She felt the pain at first; she always did. But then, everything went away. All the noise inside of her was replaced by noice outside. The TV down in the living room playing some news show for her father. The pounding of her heart. All of it was put on mute as the calm swept over and through her. Behind her closed eyes she saw Sam's face. Her mother's. And then Jason's.

Jason smiling. Frowning. Crying. Laughing. Kissing her. Shouting. Watching television. Dancing. Singing. The calm washed that away though, taking the sting with it, leaving only the numb awareness of what had passed.

Taking another deep breath and letting it out slowly, Emily wiped the small stripe of blood off her arm, and placed the band-aid over it. She stood up slowly and faced the mirror. Taking her black hair up into a pony tail, she bent and picked up the brochure of the hospital that Charlie had given her.

She knew he was right really. It was selfish of her to bother him. She sighed as she hid the razor again and put the band-aids back in their place. She wasn't crazy. But maybe she could get help and stop feeling so numb all of the time.

She thumbed open the brochure and started to read about the hospital that would be her new home.

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**Fin**


	4. Chapter Three

**Author's Note: **_Thank you to everybody who reviewed chapter two. Numbers went up but I was really busy this week so I couldn't respond to everyone individually. Here's the Monday update but it's late so you'll probably read this on Tuesday if at all. I have an IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT to make. Not just for this story but all my others as well. ALL scheduled updating is CANCELLED for the next TWO WEEKS. I have state exams and I need to study. So sorry. But there'll be major updating after. Maybe a few one shots. _

_And I am also starting a contest for you to mull over while I'm studying and not updating. i will write a one-shot prompted by the person who reviews and suggests to me the best quote they can find to sum up this chapter. See if you can do better than my own ones._

**Thanks again for reading and (possibly) reviewing!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Alex Rider series. Emily is mine.**

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**Just A Simple Fix**

_We all live with the objective of being happy; our lives are all different and yet the same - Anne Frank_

_The biggest disease today is not leprosy or tuberculosis, but rather the feeling of being unwanted - Mother Theresa_

**Chapter Three**

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Emily was quietly impressed by the lobby of her new prison, Saint Sebastian's Psychiatric Hospital. She wondered who Sebastian was and what he'd done to have such a fancy hospital built in his name. The lobby looked rich; all of the brown and black fabrics covering the lush couches and chairs complimented the paint on the walls. There were plants everywhere and it didn't smell like a hospital. The corridors leading off the lobby were marble and on the walls were different prints depicting scenes of peace and tranquility.

Emily felt slightly more whole when she looked at the pictures. Some elements of the known remained, anyway. Her hair hung down over her eyes, loose. She fidgeted slightly, nervously picking at the sleeves of her sweatshirt. She was thankful it was raining; rain meant she could get away with wearing long sleeves a little bit longer, hiding what she didn't want others to see.

She gripped her duffel bag tighter when she heard the familiar clack of high heels on tiles. It was a common noise in hospitals, feet scuffing the floor. She glanced up and found a woman in a white blouse and black slacks bearing down on her. She had red hair and a dusting of freckles and pale skin. She wore a smile that was supposed to be friendly and welcoming but Emily knew that smile. The 'I-don't-care-about-you-I-just-want-to-get-paid' smile.

The woman held out a hand and it hovered for a minute between the two of them. Emily ignored it and eventually it was removed with another smile.

"You must be Emily Mary Rose. I'm Dr. Grace Ryan. You can call me Grace, if you want. Some of the little ones even call me Gracie. Welcome to Saint Sebastian's" she said, her smile widening. Emily wondered just how many times a year she repeated those exact sentences to the exact same type of people.

The woman, Dr. Ryan, hovered amicably, not leading the way anywhere. Emily would have frowned but she didn't. She didn't like to show any particular expression. It was easier to get past people if they believed you to be relatively calm and well adjusted. Perhaps she was waiting for Emily to say something in reply?

"The little ones?" she said slowly, mulling the words over. Dr. Ryan smiled and nodded.

"Yes. We deal with minors of all ages here for all kinds of treatment. It would be inappropriate to have minors and adults sharing the same building. We work with a lot of young children dealing with death of parents, witnessing of murder, abuse; that kind of thing. But it's mostly teenagers here" Dr. Ryan said, smiling. She turned then as if to leave and Emily did frown. She knew the drill. They were supposed to search your bag and remove any 'detrimental' items.

"You're not gonna check my bag?" she asked incredulously. Dr. Ryan pursed her lips and looked Emily up and down twice.

"Why? Have you got something in your bag that you'd like me to see? I don't what you're expecting Emily, but this isn't some kind of prison. You've trusted me to help you and now I'm trusting you not to bring anything in here that might be harmful to you or to the other patients. Now you prove me right or wrong" she said seriously.

Emily just stared at Dr. Ryan as her smile re-appeared and she continued as if nothing at all was amiss. She began to lead her down the tiled hallway from which she came.

"It's such a shame your father couldn't wait with you. I was looking forward to meeting him and interrogating him about you." Dr. Ryan said to Emily.

"No. He's going up to Scotland. To do some..." it struck her hard that she couldn't remember what her father had told her he was doing. Hadn't she been concerned? When she was younger she used to break down every single time he went to get shopping. Why hadn't she worried about him and what he was doing? She wasn't selfish. She... She wasn't so sure what to label herself with anymore.

"Fishing. Yes, he told me. It's very pretty up there this time of year, you know. Or so I hear. Have you ever been?" Dr. Ryan asked her. She just shrugged and let the matter drop. She didn't like small talk. It was too transparent to be of any use for distraction.

"Well, I guess I'd better do the whol tour of the "campus" with you. That's what some the kids are calling it now" she said with a little laugh.

"I'll be your therapist but you'll see a few other doctors from time to time as well. In the mornings at half past eight, you'll go to breakfast and then there are lessons at half nine. They're online and take place down in the computer wing. Lots of different courses but they do count towards your A levels. Attendance is mandatory. That goes on until two. Then you'll go to lunch and afterwards you choose an activity. Reading, music, art, whatever. You choose it entirely for yourself. At four there's dinner and then two hours of free time. Supper at seven and then a group therapy session where everyone in the group just talks about their day, whether it was good or bad, what they could do to change that or make it better. It's just a time for everyone to get to know each other better" she rambled on and on.

Emily just tuned her out in favour of studying her surroundings. It was a lot more homely than she'd thought. The passages were cream and clean but lacked any kind of hospital air. There were windows everywhere. Doctors' offices where patients were doing therapy, the doors sometimes open, sometimes closed. Emily glanced into one or two and saw various doctors and patients. Some paced the room, some sat like it was a meeting while others lay on the stereotypical couches. It seemed like a very relaxed, informal kind of therapy being implemented here.

They walked up a large, wide staircase and onto the landing of the second floor. Yet another long hallway stretched from right to left. She caught a glimpse of a library as she followed Dr. Ryan along the hallway and through a set of windowed double doors.

"And this is the mess hall where all meals are eaten. Most kids like to sit with their room mates or their group, y'know, for the familiarity of the setting. No assigned seats or things like that. If you're ever still hungry after a meal, by all means, go back for seconds because there's plenty. If you ever want a snack there are coolers in each room and you're welcome to bring anything from here up except the main meals of the day" she told Emily as they entered.

The room was big and spacious with large windows all the way along the walls. The walls were white and large oak tables were spread out across the floor. Kids were in the line to get food and Emily supposed that it was lunch time. Looking around, she realized that there was no way she would ever guess this was part of a psychiatric hospital. Partly because it was so open and light.

But mostly because of the people. They were all young and different but so normal looking. It looked like any canteen in any school. Her eyes lingered on one tiny little girl, no older than seven, who was sitting nearby at what looked to be the kiddy table. She munched on an apple while she happily coloured in a unicorn on a piece of paper. What could possibly have driven such a young child to require help so soon in her life?

She averted her gaze when the girl looked up and her eyes wandered again, halting at the table in the right corner of the room, furthest from her where a small drama seemed to be unfolding. A boy with copper coloured hair placed an apple down in front of the girl opposite him, his eyebrows drawn together with worry. He kept pushing it towards the girl but she just grabbed it and pushed it back more forcefully, shaking her head. Another boy, a blond one, said something then and the girl shot up from her seat and marched away from the table, dumping the apple in the bin. The copper haired boy looked angrily at the blond before getting up and stalking out of the room, fists clenched. Emily just watched the blond one though. He had a self satisfied smirk as his eyes followed the girl and for minute Emily's gaze met his.

It was only a minute and there was nothing spectacular to be seen in them but she saw something that struck off in her own chest. Pain.

"Here comes Kat; she's going to be your new room mate" Dr. Ryan's voice pulled her away from those brown eyes. Then Kat was in front of them and Emily realized just how ill she looked up close. Dark circles under eyes, pale skin, she was even shorter than Emily, which added to the overall effect of unwellness. She was clad in a pair of light wash jeans, with a green tee shirt and a black sweater.

Kat stopped in front of them and a smile lit up her face, like a child who'd gotten just what they wanted for Christmas. It struck Emily that she was very pretty but she would have been stunning if she didn't look so emaciated. Once she smiled the shadows on her face shifted and she looked less like a dead body and more alive.

"Kat", Dr. Ryan said solemnly, "What did we agree on yesterday?"

Kat sighed and looked down at the ground and then back over her shoulder. Her tiny frame seemed to slump when she realized the copper haired boy had left just after her. "That I have to eat at least half of what's on my plate. And I didn't. And I don't even feel bad about it" she replied, chin stubbornly held up now.

Dr. Ryan just nodded. Right. The trust thing that seemed to be in operation, Emily realized. "Kat, this is your new room mate. Emily. I was wondering if you'd like to bring her upstairs so she can get settled. Maybe you could help her unpack?"

"Sure, no problem." Kat said, looking Emily up and down. With a parting smile, Dr. Ryan left them there. Kat led Emily out of the mess hall and towards the stairs and she began speaking.

"All our rooms are on the third floor. Just up these stairs. I guess we're going to be stuck together for a while" Kat said with a chuckle. Emily just followed her up the stairs and watched her open the door of the room nearest the staircase. They both stepped in side and Emily felt relieved. It was just an ordinary room. The walls were light blue; the floors were wooden with a glazed finish. There were two twin beds resting on the left side of the room with a large closet on the opposite. A window was in the middle of the back wall with bookshelves surrounding it; a couple of smaller plush chairs next to them.

"That bed's yours" Kat said with a jerk of her thumb. Emily set her bag down silently and began to unpack. It was a little awkward, unpacking while Kat watched silently, obviously dying to begin interrogating Emily good naturedly. She didn't mind. She was new, after all. In a place where time passed slowly, a new arrival was like a God send.

"No bars on the windows?" she commented wryly. Kat chuckled and lay back on her bed, her eyes never leaving Emily, taking in every movement like a squirrel. Curious. Excited.

"No. So, what are you in for?" she asked.

Emily's hand instinctively reached for her sleeve, wanting to make sure it hadn't ridden up during the time she'd unpacked. Noticing the movement, Kat's eyes flooded with understanding and... sympathy?

"That's depressing. Could be worse though. You could be James" Kat said, deliberately changing the subject. Emily appreciated that a lot. She grasped the change and clung on, desperate for conversation not to swing back to her. She sensed somehow that Kat wasn't the kind of person to do that but she was wary and she knew appearances could be deceiving.

"Why? Who's James?" she asked, not fully understanding. She felt a little pang at the name James. It was too close to Jason for comfort and made her feel slightly hollow inside. She always felt like she was being pulled to pieces when she thought of Jason or Sam or her mother.

"You saw who I was sitting with at lunch?" Emily nodded and Kat continued, "James is the boy with bronze hair who was sitting across from me".

"Why would it be worse to be James?" she asked blankly. She was still quite confused. Kat moved to sit beside Emily on her bed secretively, leaning forward and smiling slightly. Emily unconciously leaned forward as well, curiosity fully piqued.

"He's got Cotard Delusion. Serious Cotard Delusion. He thinks he's dead" Kat said quietly. Emily blinked. She'd heard vague rumours about such an illness but she'd never actually thought it was a reality for anyone. Kat grinned at Emily's obvious sceptic surprise. She laughed then, a happy peal.

"It's true. He thinks he's dead. He's been dead for two years now but he's only been in Saint Sebastian's for a month, like me. His parents live in Texas and they paid to send him out here just because of Dr. Ryan. She's a specialist. The trouble is that when you're dead, you can't work. Or go to school. He went quiet for a year when he was fifteen and on his birthday he told his mum he'd died. Freaked her out, apparently. He wouldn't eat much or talk to many people. You'd be lucky to get much out of him most days" Kat said, slightly bored. She seemed fully reconciled with the strange idea.

"Right. But dead people aren't, y'know, hospitalised. Generally. What did he die of?" Emily inquired. Kat nodded twice solemnly.

"He was sick when he was fifteen with something bad. He got better but he kept telling everybody he was dead. His mum thought he was just a few pennies short of pound. Anyway, I don't want to be insensitive or anything. He gets really upset sometimes because he's full sure he's in hell. His parents were really religious and apparently they pushed him in school. He's got dysgraphia, see, so he was always at a bit of a disadvantage. He thinks he was defective and now he's in hell. Don't treat him differently, though. And don't try and convince him. Grace says just to be as normal as we can be around him. Oh, and don't talk about it to anyone either" she explained.

"What's he like?" Emily asked.

"Sweet. Funny. He likes reading and playing music. Sort of dreamy. Charming. Very smart. He annoys the hell out of me at meals, though. I mean, dead people shouldn't be trying to make you eat all the time, should they? For a dead guy though, he's pretty amazing" Kat said, blushing slightly. Emily would ask her about her relationship with James later, when they were better friends and she was sure she could trust her new room-mate.

"What about the other three you were sitting with? Who are they?" Emily inquired.

"Oh, they're Si, Jess and Alex. You'll like Si. He's hilarious, even about his condition. He's got Neglect Syndrome. According to Grace he's 'lost the ability to give equal attention to both sides of a space'. He's sixteen, a younger than me and the others, but he's very broad. Muscly, really. Plays a lot of sport. It's a bit weird, Neglect syndrome. In the morning when he gets up and shaves, he only does half of his face. Ask him or Grace if you want. He's very open and Grace can explain it better than me" Kat said, grinning again.

"And the others?" Emily asked.

"Jess is a kleptomaniac. She's seventeen and she will steal anything. Don't take it personally or get angry. It's not her fault. Just keep an eye on your stuff or steal it back. Alex is the know-it-all blond who was sitting at the end of the table. He's just your standard depressed, anger management case." Kat glanced at the small clock on the bedside table. "Crap. It's half two. I'd better show you to the 'activity' rooms. You should come and do art with me and James. He's an incredible artist".

Emily nodded and both girls rose from the bed slowly, unfolding there legs and shaking them to wake them up. Kat gave another tinkling laugh as she skipped out of the room.

"And I'll tell you all about Curtis. He's Si's room-mate. He has Stendhal Syndrome. He gets hallucinations and palpitations whenever he goes past the art room" she called over her shoulder.

Emily glanced around the room before leaving and she felt a strange, foreign tendrel wind it's way around her stomach. She had a strange thought. Perhaps she might...like it here.

* * *

**Fin**


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